


Running With The Wolves

by CeridwenofWales



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Berserkers, Drug Use, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Norse, Norse culture, Rough Sex, Viking Age, Viking Culture, Vikings, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales
Summary: Ivar is a Berserker who gets home in frenzy. It's dubcon because we can't really say his wife is willing and unafraid.In this AU, Ivar is not disabled. I'm going with the version his name meant "The Hated". Maybe due his actions as a Berserker?





	Running With The Wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ifinkufreaky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/gifts).



> In medieval Norse and Germanic history and folklore, the berserkers were described as members of an unruly warrior gang that worshipped Odin, the supreme Norse deity, and were commissioned to royal and noble courts as bodyguards and ‘shock troops’, who would strike fear into all who encountered them. Adding to their ferocity, and in order to intimidate the enemy, they would wear bear and wolf pelts when they fought, giving them the name Berserker, meaning “bear coat” in Old Norse.
> 
> While some researchers believe the Berserkers simply worked themselves up into a self-induced hysteria before fighting, others maintain that it was sorcery, the consumption of drugs or alcohol, or even mental illness, that accounted for their behaviour. Some botanists have claimed that berserker behaviour could have been caused by the ingestion of the plant known as bog myrtle, one of the main spices in Scandinavian alcoholic beverages.
> 
> Other more esoteric theories surround supernatural beliefs. For instance, some scholars have claimed that the Vikings believed in spirit possession and that berserkers were possessed by the animal spirits of wolves or bears. According to some theorists, berserkers learned to cultivate the ability to allow animal spirits to take over their body during a fight (an example of animal totemism) that also involved drinking the blood of the animal that they wished to be possessed by.
> 
> In 1015, Jarl Eiríkr Hákonarson of Norway outlawed berserkers, and Grágás, the medieval Icelandic law code, sentenced berserker warriors to outlawry. By the 12th century, organised berserker war-gangs had been completely disbanded.  
> [The Viking Berserkers – fierce warriors or drug-fuelled madmen?](http://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/viking-berserkers-fierce-warriors-or-drug-fuelled-madmen-001472)
> 
> If there were elite troops such as berserkers and wolfskins available on the battlefield, they were put in the front of the phalanx [a rectangular mass military formation, usually composed entirely of heavy infantry] to resist the main weight of an attack, or at the front when launching an attack. But berserker troops could be a double-edged sword, as they were difficult to control in a battle and were often ill-suited to formation warfare. Instead, they seem to prefer to operate in smaller groups, attacking independently. Olav Haraldsson (St Olav) put the berserkers in front of his own phalanx at the battle of Stiklestad in the year 1030, but instead of holding the line they attacked and thereby contributed to the king’s downfall.
> 
> Originally berserkers developed their own brotherhood of professional warriors who travelled round and took service with different chiefs. What distinguished them was that they had bears and wolves as totem animals, and clad themselves in their skins. Irrespective of whether it was a bear or a wolf, the warriors believed they were endowed with the spirit of the animal. Designs showing warriors clad in what could be bearskins occur, among other places, on the Torslund plates from Öland, thought to date from the seventh century.
> 
> In the Fornalder sagas (‘Sagas of Earlier Times’) and in several other sagas, the king’s or the chieftain’s guard is described as made up of berserkers, usually 12 in number. The berserkers often comprised an elite troop in addition to the guard or the army in general. In sea battles they were usually stationed at the prow, to take the leading point of an attack. In the battle of Hafrsfjord, c872, they appear as shock troops for Harald Hårfagre (Finehair), in groups of 12.
> 
> [The truth about Viking berserkers](http://www.historyextra.com/article/feature/viking-berserkers-facts-really-exist)
> 
> Like all traditional members of shamanic secret societies, berserkers acquired their power through ritualistic practice. These practices included spending periods in extreme isolation, fasting, exposure to extreme heat and cold, and engaging in group weapon dances prior to battle. In the wilderness, berserkers lived like their totem animal, adopting its mannerisms and habits, sustaining themselves by hunting and raiding settlements.  
> [14 facts about Berserkers](https://www.ranker.com/list/viking-berserker-facts/philgibbons)
> 
> In the article above it's mentioned the possibility of Ivar might have been a Berserker.  
> [Ivar the Boneless, Ragnar Lothbrok’s Son](http://mythologian.net/ivar-the-boneless-ragnar-lothbroks-son/)
> 
> more **[here](http://en.natmus.dk/historical-knowledge/denmark/prehistoric-period-until-1050-ad/the-viking-age/weapons/berserkers/)**

* * *

 

 

Fionnuala felt deep in her bones that night he would come to her as a furious beast. She didn't know if the tales of the warriors that fought like animals were true for she had never seen Ivar and his men fighting beyond the protection of his fortress. But if the way he was used to taking her after the battles had something to say, she was sure he was the most violent. It was like he saw her as an enemy to be defeated, a wall to be put down. His eyes were the most terrifying as all the kindness from the day disappeared and he was no longer human.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The first time he came back from a battle still in frenzy, she was terrified. While his men were acting cheerful after the victory, Ivar was taciturn and analyzing her during the whole feast. He didn't look interested in food or drink. He didn't even care enough to wash before the meal was served. After his warriors made their way to their homes, Ivar grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her into their chambers. She tried to talk to him when he threw her on the bed.

 

“Ivar… my love. What is wrong? You're scaring me! Let me bring you some water. You must be exhausted after the battle.” She lifted her hand to touch his face and he grunted.

 

Fionnuala gulped when she felt the viscosity of blood on his face. It looked like he was recognizing her because he started blinking but the moment was gone fast. His fingers closed around the material of her dress and with a sharp wrench he ripped the fabric to the waist and started rubbing her breasts roughly and breathing heavily. It was not like they usually started their nights. He was not seeing her, not caring about her reactions. It was like she was only a piece of meat to be devoured. The realization made her heart pound in her chest.

 

 _I must run. I'll try to hide until he is himself._ Fionnuala started thinking about how to protect herself.

 

When he kneeled between her thighs to free his manhood, Fionnuala saw the chance to break free. While he was struggling against his breeches, she tried to run to the door. She couldn't go further. As soon as Fionnuala raised her hand to push the door open, strong arms captured her waist tossing her on the bed once more. This time her face was buried against the pillows. Fionnuala didn't want to turn around and look at his face. At that moment, she realized whatever were his plans, she couldn't save herself. She rationalized that would be better to pretend it was another man with her. A foreign invader and not her loving husband. Not the man that smiled at her when she woke up in the mornings. Not the man that looked deep into her eyes while taking her gently. This was not the man she married.

 

Rough paws started pulling up her ruined dress. The beast started grunting and soon she felt he was grabbing her hips. He entered her in just one motion, burying himself to the hilt. It was excruciating. She had never felt so stretched and muffled her cry bitting the mattress. His punishing pace filled their bedroom with the sounds of his skin slapping against her. Fionnuala didn't want, but the pressure and friction started affecting her. Part of her wanted Ivar to release his seed fast and fall asleep. Unfortunately, the herbs the warriors consumed not only gave them strength and hallucinations, Ivar and his men could endure physical efforts for prolonged periods. In another corner of her mind, she wanted to test how much she could endure it and how differently she would feel after.

 

He kept bringing her hips up to stab her with his cock. After a few torturing minutes, her body started working to bring her some relief and she was getting wet. Her hands were gripping the sheets when he changed the position. Instead of kneeling behind her, he was almost straddling her back. With her legs closed, her entrance was tighter, and the pressure increased. Her body was shaking as trees during a storm. Ivar must have felt the difference of his attack as well for he started grunting more. He howled and pressed her between the bed and his muscular thighs, pounding into her a few more times until he spilled his seed and rolled to his side.

 

She didn't want to move her head and check on him, but the sound of snoring soon reached her ears. Her legs were still trembling and the aching between her thighs was making it impossible for Fionnuala to get up to clean herself. She sat on the bed for a moment, feeling the sweat dripping down her back. With all her mighty Fionnuala rose to her feet. She gasped feeling the coldness of water cleansing her thighs and her tender folds.

 

Fionnuala’s conflict started once she finished.

 

_Should I join him in bed? Or sleep elsewhere?_

 

Watching him sleeping so peacefully was enough to help her to decide.

 

With shaking knees, she walked to him. The night was getting cold and she covered him with the furs. Fionnuala lied down on the very opposite edge, afraid he would wake up and repeat his early actions. The exhaustion finally took over her senses and she drowned in a dreamless sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The giant wolf was chasing the deer and the prey was helpless. The hunt was finished quickly, and the beast feasted on the innocent’s flesh.

 

Ivar opened his eyes confused. He didn't know where he was at first, but after scanning the room he smiled.

 

_I'm home! But where's my wife? Already up?_

 

His eyes found his target and Ivar grinned feeling his morning erection.

 

When he touched her shoulder, she tensed and Ivar's eyebrows furrowed.

 

_Why is she not melting with my touch?_

 

Ivar felt challenged. He started pressing his body against her back and burying his nose on her neck, feeling the change in her breathing. She was awake.

 

“I know you are awake, _minn hjärta!_ ” he chuckled against her delicate skin.

 

She didn't move, “Okay. If this is how you want it…” he pressed his erection against her ass, “I can do all the work.”

 

Fionnuala squeezed her eyes tightly shut gulping down a sob. Her husband wished for her and she would be willing to him, ignoring the soreness. Ivar could feel her heart beating fast and thought it was out of excitement.

 

His hands started caressing her breasts through her nightgown until her nipples were hard. His mouth was busy exploring her earlobe and neck, biting lightly.

 

“You smell so good. I want to devour you.” His hot breath was making her sweat.

 

His fingers were now traveling to her belly, “I can't wait to fill you. Maybe I'll put a child inside of you. Would you like that, hmm?” he rubbed his nose against her neck.

 

She whimpered when he pressed his hand against her mound, “I missed home.”

 

His touches were delicate, but she was tender and her body stiffened when he started pulling up her nightgown to explore her inner thighs, “I-Ivar?” her voice was trembling and low.

 

“Hmm?” Ivar was biting her shoulder and her nightgown was on her waist, allowing him to explore her dry and sensitive folds. Finding her this way was unexpected, she was always wet by the time he started caressing her entrance. Ivar held his weight on his elbow to look at her.

 

“Are you okay?” Ivar was analyzing her face.

 

“Y-yes. I'm okay. I missed you.” Fionnuala lied because she didn’t want Ivar to feel guilty that he had hurt her. He looked so worried that Fionnuala thought she could endure their lovemaking.

 

Ivar leaned forward and kissed her. His lips took hers with fervor while his fingers were massaging her clitoris. She forgot her bruises for a moment as ecstasy clouded her mind. Her soft hands held onto his wrists as if she was lecturing him how to please her. Ivar smiled against her lips when her body started shuddering and her hips pressed against his hard cock.

 

Fionnuala was still coming out of her high when she felt Ivar lining up against her opening. She gasped when he started pressing inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar had always loved the tightness when he first entered her, especially the surprised expression and moans that made him think he had never seen a woman so beautiful.

 

This morning he felt extra constricted, the pressure on his tip made Ivar clench his teeth as the muscles of his stomach contracted. He used his rough hand to grab her thigh and place her leg above his. Fionnuala was open for him now. He guided his engorged tip opening her outer lips and pausing when he felt resistance. When Fionnuala looked more relaxed, Ivar fed her his cock inch by inch, pulling back just in time for Fionnuala to suck in a breath before the head of his cock pushed past the tightness.

 

She swallowed the scream that threatened to leave her mouth. The burning sensation was making it difficult to breathe. It became worse once he started moving his hips, every friction was torturing her. Ivar kept a slow pace and Fionnuala didn't know if she should be grateful or terrified that it would take time for him to find his release. Ivar kept kissing her temple and whispering loving words and praises. Her nails were digging into his hips, drawing blood with every push of his body.

 

“You're so tight. I missed being inside of you. Have you missed me?” he brought his left arm under her neck, cradling her against his chest and holding her left hand. With his chest pressing against her back, he felt her take a sharp intake of breath.

 

Fionnuala let out a groan feeling like she was being ripped in two. Her bottom rubbed against him with every undulation of his body, making her bite her lip harder and fight the tears not to startle him, she nodded her answer and Ivar howled in excitement. She missed him too. His hips slammed forward with more strength. Her hand traveled to the place they were their bodies were joined and she started caressing his balls to make Ivar finish faster.

 

“I love your hands on me,” Ivar grunted while he was rolling one of her nipples between his thumb and index finger.

 

She could only let out murmurs and whimper in agony as he thought she was delighted.

 

She noticed the difference in his breathing indicating he was close and sighed relieved when he thrust deep one last time and mewled filling her.

 

He pulled out and turned her around bringing her face to his chest and kissing her forehead.

 

His fingers caressing her scalp were almost making her sleep. Ivar's hand traveled to her waist and he started caressing her belly. She was aware that he wanted to be a father, but she wanted their child to be conceived in a different way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Tonight will be different!_ Fionnuala thought while watching him from her peripheral vision.

 

Before he could grab her hand to lead her to bed, Fionnuala held his strong arm. He blinked and grinned as a wolf showing its teeth. During their walk to their chambers, she could feel the anticipation building. She hoped her plan would work.

 

When they arrived, Ivar pushed her to bed and started undressing with urgency. Fionnuala mirrored his actions and pulled up her dress staying bare from the waist down. She started stroking her thighs with her left hand while sucking on the fingers of her right hand. Ivar growled when she brought the fingers from her mouth to caress her slit. His despair was increasing at the same pace as her moans. Fionnuala thought he would jump on her at any moment, but he stayed still with his eyes locked on her. She started pounding two fingers inside of her by the time he lost his patience throwing his last piece of clothing on the ground.

 

Fionnuala giggled when he charged in her direction. He grabbed her ankles and brought her to the edge of the bed. She was bringing her fingers to her lips when Ivar growled, looking into her eyes. He nodded to her glistening fingers and Fionnuala tilted her head. He took her wrist and started sucking her fingers. Ivar mumbled something she didn't understand and placed her legs over his shoulder.

 

She was exposed but not feeling helpless for the first time in months. He guided his cock to enter her and moaned feeling her gripping his shaft. His hands were holding her hips and Fionnuala knew she would have bruises in the morning. In this position, he was stimulating something inside of her that made the woman see black spots. Her walls started caressing his manhood and Ivar was breathing heavily against her face. Her hands traveled from the furs to his neck making Ivar freeze. She brought his face closer to her and lifted her head to kiss him with ardor. Fionnuala smiled when he pulled out and climbed on the bed with her.

 

He knelt between her spread legs and held his weight on his fists placed on each side of her waist. Every motion of his hips was leaving her breathless and making her breasts bounce. Ivar seemed hypnotized by the movement, looking at her face only when she used his strong arms to deal with the impact. Even though she noticed his eyes were clouded, Fionnuala could say he looked surprised she was accepting his rough treatment. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and their moans. Fionnuala threw her head back, crying out. Ivar was absorbed by her reactions and increased his pace even more. Her sensitive core experienced a new wave of pleasure and she started shuddering and tried to close her thighs around him to ease the pressure. Ivar didn't allow it. He held her legs wide open as he filled her with his release.

 

That night she didn’t found difficult to sleep wrapped in his arms.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar felt the leaves touching his face as he was running through the foggy forest. The harsh ground should feel painful, but his feet carried him faster until the trees were just blurred sights. He heard a howl and stopped suddenly. A wolf was chasing him, but he didn’t feel threatened. Them he saw the majestic animal, eyes piercing into his soul. It walked to him deliberately until its nose was touching Ivar’s face.

 

_But how is it possible that this wolf touched my face if I’m not kneeling?_

 

He felt his heart racing but didn’t move. The wolf whined and walked past him. Ivar’s will to move returned. He should follow. They ran, and Ivar felt like he was flying with the wind. The forest was part of them, he could hear the birds, the leaves rustle, the crickets chirp, the bees, the raindrops reaching the soil. The wolf was still ahead of Ivar. They came to a clearing, and there was a lake, very secluded, with tall trees all around. The wolf stopped before the lake, turning to face Ivar. Again, he felt the urge to come closer. The animal’s eyes were beckoning him, and he complied. The creature licked his face and glanced down into the clear water. Ivar followed its move and gasped with the sight of his own image, perfectly mirrored in the pool's quiet surface. He was a wolf too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He felt the morning light bathing his skin and his lips curl up into a smile as the woman in his arms moved.

 

“Good morning, wife.” He murmured with his raspy and sleepy voice looking down at her.

 

“Good morning, my love.” Fionnuala smiled at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Fionnuala means “white shoulder” from Irish fionn “white, fair” and guala “shoulder”. In Irish legend Fionnuala was one of the four children of [Lir](https://www.behindthename.com/name/lir) who were transformed into swans for a period of 900 years.
> 
>  
> 
> The word “berserk” is used to describe the behavior of a person who was acting irrationally in a state of great agitation, unable to control their actions. In Norse mythology, during the Viking age, the berserkers were considered a type of “warrior-shamans” who showed exceptional fighting fury and courage. Being in some kind of trance, they were able to ignore the wounds inflicted in battles.
> 
> These Viking berserker warriors were the most feared off all, believed to used herbal type drugs such as anmirifta to enhance their mood for battle, the eager berserker warriors are believed to have stood here biting their shields and swords in anticipation of the forthcoming battle and violence.
> 
> The totem animal of the berserkers was, as the name implies, the bear.
> 
> In pre-Christian Scandinavia, berserkers seem to have been members of cults connected with Odin in his capacity as god of warriors.
> 
> Snorri Sturluson in Ynglinga Saga, recalling numerous elements of ancient lore, describes Odin’s warriors in this way:
> 
> His men went to battle without armor and acted like mad dogs or wolves. They bit into their shields and were as strong as bears or bulls.
> 
> They killed men, but neither fire nor iron harmed them. This madness is called ‘berserker-fury’.
> 
> The berserkers of the saga, who often appear as the core of the king’s forces, are at times reminiscent of the retinue of warriors surrounding Odin and may ultimately derive from ancient bear cults.
> 
> Debate has centered on the meaning of the word itself. Berserker could mean “bare shirt,” that is, naked; berserkers, as a mark of ferocity and invincibility, are said to have fought without needing armor. The word, however, may also mean “bear-shirt,” reflective of the shape and nature of the bear assumed by these warriors. More literally, it may refer to protective bearskins that such warriors may have worn into battle.
> 
> When the “berserker rage” was upon him, a berserker was thought of as a sort of “were-bear” (or werewolf), part man, part beast, who was neither fully human nor fully animal. Although not specifically so called, Bodvar Bjarki is a berserker of sorts.
> 
>  
> 
> [Were The Viking Berserkers True Or Drug Addicted Warriors Fighting In Trance?](http://www.ancientpages.com/2015/02/03/were-the-viking-berserkers-true-or-drug-addicted-warriors-fighting-in-trance/)
> 
>  
> 
> Wolf warriors appear among the legends of the Indo-Europeans, Turks, Mongols, and North American Indians. The Germanic wolf-warriors have left their trace through shields and standards that were captured by the Romans and displayed in the armilustrium in Rome.
> 
> The Úlfhéðnar (singular Úlfheðinn), another term associated with berserkers, mentioned in the Vatnsdæla saga, Haraldskvæði and the Völsunga saga, were said to wear the pelt of a wolf when they entered battle. Úlfhéðnar are sometimes described as Odin's special warriors: "[Odin's] men went without their mailcoats and were mad as hounds or wolves, bit their shields...they slew men, but neither fire nor iron had effect upon them. This is called 'going berserk'." 
> 
> In addition, the helm-plate press from Torslunda depicts (below) a scene of Odin with a berserker—"a wolf skinned warrior with the apparently one-eyed dancer in the bird-horned helm, which is generally interpreted as showing a scene indicative of a relationship between berserkgang... and the god Odin"—with a wolf pelt and a spear as distinguishing features.
> 
> The earliest surviving reference to the term "berserker" is in Haraldskvæði, a skaldic poem composed by Thórbiörn Hornklofi in the late 9th century in honor of King Harald Fairhair, as ulfheðnar ("men clad in wolf skins"). This translation from the Haraldskvæði saga describes Harald's berserkers:
> 
> I'll ask of the berserks, you tasters of blood,  
> Those intrepid heroes, how are they treated,  
> Those who wade out into battle?  
> Wolf-skinned they are called. In battle  
> They bear bloody shields.  
> Red with blood are their spears when they come to fight.  
> They form a closed group.  
> The prince in his wisdom puts trust in such men  
> Who hack through enemy shields.
> 
> The "tasters of blood" in this passage are thought to be ravens, which feasted on the slain.
> 
>  
> 
> [Berserker](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berserker)


End file.
